


The Space Between

by Rachelemmeline



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Fix-It, KiddWay - Freeform, Pirates Being Sweet, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Teasing, What Could Have Been
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachelemmeline/pseuds/Rachelemmeline
Summary: “But not a word of it to anyone. Or I’ll unman you as well.”Edward Kenway doesn't have many he considers to be "close friends," but the young James Kidd seems to see something in him. When James reveals that he is actually Mary Read, Edward must accept that fact that his close friend is the first woman he's had a real connection with since he arrived in the West Indies and what Mary's secret means for their friendship.A slowburn Kiddway that takes place after each of Mary and Edward's encounters after she reveals herself. Stays true to the plot of Black Flag while exploring a possible romance between Edward and Mary. Future chapters will have mature content.
Relationships: Edward Kenway & James Kidd | Mary Read, Edward Kenway/James Kidd | Mary Read
Kudos: 12





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> From the moment James was revealed to be Mary, I desperately wanted to see some sort of romance bud between her and Edward, even if it was fated to be limited. All we got was her subtle wink at him, her dying words, and Anne saying that Mary “thought the world” of Edward. That certainly did not satisfy the need I had. Updates will happen when they can, as I already have a pretty solid idea where I will be taking this. Obviously, for legal purposes, I do not own the characters or any canon plot to which this story implies, nor make any such claims to ownership.

_ “But not a word of it to anyone. Or I’ll unman you as well.” _

Edward lay awake in his quarters, eyes fixed on the window panes above. Light from the harbor cast strange shadows around him. Strange shadows, indeed. His mind raced with the events of not but a few hours prior. James Kidd, the supposed bastard son of William Kidd wasn’t exactly who he claimed. He wasn’t the son of the late, legendary captain. He wasn’t a  _ son _ of anyone. He was Mary Read. It was enough to stun any man that had kept Kidd’s company over the months and years. The headstrong manner in which he conducted himself, the youthful lines of his face, the scars of battle he carried, his slim yet strong frame… he was a shining example of a young pirate. But, he was she. He was Mary Read.

It hadn’t been the threat of unmanning that Mary had cast his way which kept Edward awake. He had carried more than his fair share of secrets through the years, and the weight of this did not bear down upon him such that he felt there were any who needed to know. Rather, it was curiosity that stabbed at his brain. The thousand questions that rose up; an endless barrage of whys and hows.

Why did she choose to reveal herself? Surely there were no shortage of other distractions she could have used on the guards, none of which included the undoing of her hair, nor the opening of her shirt, nor the bloodying of her lips. Why did she trust him, of all people, to reveal this to? Why did she trust him with anything? With the knowledge of the light of life? With her allegiance to the Assassins? Did she actually trust him at all, or was it all part of trying to bring him into the Assassin’s fold? And how? How had she managed to pull this off for so long? To fool them all?

Edward rolled onto his side, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. There would be no sleep that night, not unless he could stop the flood of questions that raced through his mind.

He sat up slowly, looking through the dim cabin, hoping that one of the many scattered rum bottles still held a swig or ten. But he knew luck was not on his side for that. Swinging his legs over the side of the small bed, he reached down beside to his boots, pulling them on with hesitance. It was late, but the pubs never closed. There was always drink to be found.

Forgoing his robes, Edward emerged into the night air in his trousers and shirt. One sword and one pistol accompanied him at his hips, just in case, but he had no taste for fighting after the night’s adventure.  _ The Jackdaw _ was quiet and a few of his crew were slumped against cannon and rail, properly pissed. Across the harbor, Kidd’s… Mary’s… ship sat in similar silent darkness with sails drawn. A small smile crossed his lips for a moment before he looked to shore, cursing Kingston’s lack of proper docking. He’d have to cross the water by rowboat if he wanted to drown his thoughts. And he did want to, so row he would.

\------

Apparently, pubs did, indeed, close. Edward stood out front of the brewery, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. In all his memory, he couldn’t recall a pub being closed. Then again, he couldn’t remember quite a bit when it came to his time at pubs. It was no matter, there was bound to be at least one passed out drunk with a bottle to nick around somewhere.

Sure enough, collapsed behind the tavern was a sailor - not one of his crew, but Edward recognized him. A whore lay across the sailor’s lap, her skirt gathered up past her knees, and not far from her outstretched hands lay a bottle on it’s side. Upon closer examination, Edward could see that a good deal of the rum had split out and seeped into the sandy soil, but there was still a precious bit to be had. He scooped up the bottle and took a swig. “Cheers, mate,” he mumbled, raising the bottle slightly before walking off in search of a bottle with more to offer. If he wanted to clear his mind of the storm of confusion Mary had laid upon him, he would need more than a few sips.

Edward made his way idly back to the shore, nipping at the bottle as he went. He found himself a spot under a palm in the shadows, tucked away from the small shore fires and the last of the murmurings of drunken men and women alike. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, its shape bent from years of weathered winds, Edward fixed his eyes on the shimmering of the moon’s reflections on the water. He stayed this way for some time, mind racing still despite the drink. It was, perhaps, too little, too late. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow moving among the crates of a farther off pier - a shadow with a golden glow about it.

“Of course,” he said to himself in barely a whisper with a slight chuckle and shake of his head. Bottle still in hand, he set off toward the dock, knowing there was only one person who could shine like a target for him that night.

He made no attempt to approach with stealth nor even to soften his footfalls as he spanned the splitting, old boards of the dock. Something told him that she wouldn’t run from him. Still, inside, a knot of nerves formed in his stomach and he cursed himself and his confusion. There was no reason to feel such anxiety. After all, there were plenty of fierce women among pirates - or maybe not plenty. Certainly not nearly as many as there were men, but they did exist - and among Assassins, too. And women, not for nothing, had rarely roused anxiety in him.

“Have ye come to have your laugh then, Kenway?” Mary’s voice rang out through the air when Edward was a mere few paces away, interrupting his thoughts. She didn’t turn to face him, but only brought a small bottle to her lips and rolled her head back.

“Not a laugh, no,” Edward replied, closing the space between himself and the stack of crates that Mary was perched upon. “Did you know that pubs close?” he asked, not sure what to say to her now that he was there.

“Aye, ‘course they do,” she replied with a wry laugh. “You’d know that, too, if you weren’t always pissed and passed when comes that time of night.” She turned her face to him then. Small licks of firelight from the pier’s torches danced across her face, mimicking the golden shimmer that drew Edward to her. “Well, are ye just going to stand there?” She asked, her lips turning up into the sideways smile Edward had seen so many times before.

Edward vaulted onto the stack of crates in silence, bottle still in hand, and settled beside Mary, keeping space between them as best he could. He hung one leg over the side of the crates, the other drawn up, but said nothing. The gentle lapping of the water beneath the pier and the creaking of wood were the only sounds for what seemed to be hours, though it was merely minutes.

“So, what am I to call you now?” Edward finally asked, speaking low. He looked at Mary with curious perplexion on his face. Her hair was pulled back up, the redness of her lips was gone. She looked every bit to be the James Kidd that Edward had known as a young and determined pirate lad. But still, her face looked brighter, the strands of hair that grazed the nape of her neck looked softer…

Mary laughed, breaking his mind of his wondering observations. It was a response Edward did not expect. “What are ye call me?” she returned rhetorically. “I trust you’d have enough sense to know what to call me and when to call me such. I threatened you once tonight, Kenway, and I don’t like repeatin’ myself.”

“Fair enough... Mary.” Edward said, her name passing over his lips felt like silk, and the knot of nerves in him grew tighter. He swallowed hard. “When I said I’d lost two men tonight,” he continued, “I didn’t mean to insult you. You’re among the fiercest of pirates I kn-.”

“Ain’t no insult in being a woman,” Mary said sharply, cutting him off. “Ain’t no reason a woman can’t be fierce as a man.”

Edward furrowed his brow slightly. “Why then? Why disguise yourself as a man?”

“Safety. And access,” she countered, taking another swig from her bottle. Edward had nearly forgotten about his own and mirrored her action. “Men can go where women can’t. Men command respect in ways women can’t. I got no shame in being a woman, but I can’t say I would have the same benefits as Mary Reed that which James Kidd has by virtue of what is assumed to be in my trousers.”

“Aye, that does hold.” She was right - the life of a man was more free than that of a woman, even among pirates. He wanted to ask more; all the hows and whys, but he didn’t push her. Something in her tone held him off. A sort of bitterness, almost.

The silence that fell between them felt strained, almost foreign. Edward was used to Kidd both instigating him and pushing back, countering damn near never thought and word, sometimes before Edward could even finish. He drummed his fingers lightly on the bottle in his grip, a weak attempt to cut through the still air. Mary cleared her throat quietly, but neither spoke. Neither did they attempt to leave. One long silence between him and the ever-opinionated Kidd was odd enough, but two in one evening was downright uncomfortable. He was never hesitant with Kidd, never bit his tongue or minced his words.

“How does it work?” he asked abruptly. “I mean… do you… go without? Comfort, that is.” If he was going to talk to her, he had to talk to her like she was Kidd. She  _ was _ Kidd, and Kidd was easy to talk to. Mary should be no different. Women was not a subject that he’d ever spoken with Kidd about, though, nor had he ever even seen Kidd with a woman for that matter. But, it was a common subject amongst men of the sea. Days and weeks of being in such close quarters with so many men on board a ship, pent up and frustrated, lead to no shortage of tales of sexual conquest and no doubt exaggerated prowess. He was genuinely curious as to how a woman in the guise of a man dealt with that.

Mary looked at him, shoulders drawn back and eyes squinted as she dissected his question. After a moment, realization set in. “Jesus, Kenway! Women have the same needs as men and it works exactly as you might expect. What sort of daft brewed question is that?”

“There’s neither pirate nor privateer that doesn’t run for the brothel when his feet meet shore. But, you can’t do that. Not without risking...”

“Aye, can’t I, though?” She raised her scarred eyebrow ever so slightly with her question, her eyes both amused and threatening.

Edward felt a rush of warmth in his face and neck, and hoped to God that the light was too dim for Mary to notice. He had a feeling that she knew exactly what she did, though. She always knew. She was always one step ahead.

“There are those I trust with my secrets,” she continued, finishing off her bottle, leaning forward and letting it hang loosely in her hands between her shins, her elbows resting on her knees. “Few, aye, but they exist. Enough for this life, anyway. Unlike most pirates, my goals are not of gold-strewn shores, throngs of whores, and bottomless barrels of rum. I’ve not the time for that, nor for romance and trust is precious enough as is.”

Connections, trust, love: these were rare things for all pirates whose loyalties usually came at a price or at the end of a blade. There were friends among pirates, yes, and Edward considered himself lucky to have friends. Betrayal, however, was just as common. True and genuine connections were rarer than any treasure. He never thought much of the connection that he and Kidd shared when he thought he was just young and eager, trying to live up to his “father’s” legacy. But, of one thing he was certain: Kidd had imparted knowledge to him, knowledge that not many others had, and for that, there was a reason. He just wanted to know why.

“You could have distracted those guards in any other way. Why reveal this to me? Why did you bring me to the Assassins? Why help me use the light of life that-” Edward stopped abruptly, nearly clumsily falling into the end of this through.  _ The light of life which you now glow with. _

“Do you really not know, Kenway?” Mary asked in reply, countering his question with a question, so much like Kidd always did. She slid down from atop the crates, landing without a sound on the warped planks of the pier and tucking her small bottle into her coat before walking back toward shore.

“Oi, Kidd?” Edward called after her, pushing himself from the perch and landing with a less than graceful thud. Mary turned back to face him, with her hands on her hips, looking impatient. Edward closed the space between them, until they stood not a half meter apart. It wasn’t the closest he and Kidd had stood, having poured over many a map and plan, but it was the closest he had stood to Mary that night.

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Mary stopped him, clasping a firm hand on his upper arm. He’d never taken notice of Kidd’s fragile hands. It was amazing how well Marry passed for a young man - everything about her was sleek and solid, and her grasp on his arm was no exception.

“Could you be more thick-skulled, man?” Mary asked. She was asking more questions than he was and Edward could not help but feel warmed by the familiar feeling it brought. Kidd was Mary, and Mary was Kidd and there was no reason for him to treat her any different.

Edward mimicked her gesture, grabbing her opposite shoulder and nodded silently. He expected she’d turn away then, head back to shore and do… whatever a woman disguised as a man did at night in Kingston, leaving him with only half-answers as he had come to expect. Instead, she trailed her hand down his arm. Her touch was softer, slower, almost delicate. For a moment Edward felt the light of life move through him like a strange reflex and Mary’s hand left a golden trail down his arm. He nearly recoiled, but Mary grasped his forearm, her eyes lifting upward to meet his.

“I  _ trust _ you, Kenway,” she said, her voice low and laced with a heavy sweetness. With a wink, she dropped his arm and stepped backward, releasing her shoulder from his grasp. Edward searched for words, but no sound found its way to his lips. Mary’s, though, had turned to a wry and knowing smile again. She took two paces backward before turning away, her arms casually stretched up and hands tucked behind her head, her figure growing smaller as she headed back to the shore. Edward stood frozen and looked at his forearm. He curled his fingers back into a fist releasing the breath he did not realize he was holding.

_ No reason to treat her any different at all… right? _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading Chapter 1! I hope you enjoyed the first part of this slooooow burn. I’m thinking there will be four chapters total, with the next three being after their parting at Great Iguana in October 1718, Great Iguana in May 1719, and the prison. I know that Black Flag is an older game, and it seems like the Kiddway pairing isn’t as popular as I hoped, so if you’re reading, I sincerely thank you. It’s been a long time since I wrote a piece of fiction and I do feel so rusty, but would absolutely love feedback and comments.


End file.
